


We've Got Tonight

by DeanAndHisCas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Declarations Of Love, Fluff, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 15:11:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4105480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanAndHisCas/pseuds/DeanAndHisCas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been months since these two had fallen into each other's lives, and it's all built up to this moment. Just a short, fluffy one-shot with the slightest hint of angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We've Got Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kams_log](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kams_log/gifts).



> This is the first Supernatural fic I've ever uploaded, and also the first I've written in ages, so please be gentle:) Hope you like it!

The last rays of crepuscular light billowed softly into the shabby apartment, coating everything with that sort of aurous glow that makes even a rusty penny left on the counter look majestic. Imagine, then, what it did as it glinted off Dean’s eyes—and God knows they didn’t need any help being beautiful. It tangled in his eyelashes, the steep angle casting sweeping shadows over his cheekbones. Castiel tilted his head, admiring the crook in his nose, the faction of freckles that he now knew grew more pronounced in the warmer seasons. Dean dipped his head to catch his eye, prodding him gently in the rib with his index finger. “What are you thinking about?” he murmured.

“I’m marveling.” Cas whispered back. “Don’t move.”

Dean obliged, straightening, but the smile blooming across his face pressed crow’s feet into the outer corners of his eyes.

Cas reached out to wend a finger along his jawline, tracing across the hidden scars of numerous cuts that had long since healed over with nothing left to show but faint white scars. Stories, he knew; ones that must never be repeated except in the soft caress of the dark.  Dean leaned into his touch, jaw tensing, and Castiel’s heartbeat sailed. Time seemed to slip by like molasses, viscous as the careful breath of the two men standing so still in that silent apartment.

It was one of those evenings where Cas knew he’d follow the sun faithfully around the globe so as to not let it end.

But by the time his palm had brushed Dean’s waist, any remnants of the fading light had stolen away into the horizon, darkness taking reign of the sky and encompassing them in its black shade. All Castiel could see of his other was the pale crescent of his cheekbone, a single eye gleaming mischievously in the glow of a streetlamp. He thought distantly of flicking on the lights, but he didn’t dare remove his eyes from Dean’s. Not then.  Not in that crucial moment.

“Hey, Cas.”

Cas started slightly at the rumble of Dean’s voice. He could feel it humming through his body as he touched him, and Cas decided right then and there that that was his favourite part of being with Dean: those moments in their shared space where they became one. _Soulmates_. The word sent a thrill up Cas’s spine. “Hmm?”

“Would it be alright if we stayed right here for the rest of our lives?”

Cas’s voice hitched in a short laugh. “Forever?”

“If that’s alright with you.” Dean’s breath ghosted along his earlobe, followed by a press of lips to the corner of his jawbone.

“That’s more than okay with me.” Cas sighed. He curled his fingers possessively around the fabric of the other man’s shirt. To him, close was never close enough, and he suspected that Dean felt the same way.            

“And Cas?”

Cas turned his head to smile into Dean’s shoulder, inhaling the strange mixture of saltwater and lemon detergent that still clung to his t-shirt after their day together. The smell of domesticity and something else that Cas couldn’t quite determine, other than knowing it felt out of place in this dingy room. “Yes, Dean?” he replied.

“Thank you. Y’know, for today. It was nice.”

“Nice?” Cas echoed, teasing. “That’s a bit flippant.”

“Pleasant? Wonderful?” Dean amended. “I don’t know, man, I don’t have a goddamn thesaurus in front of me.” He pressed his lips into Cas’s hair. “It was the best day I’ve had in years,” he admitted softly.  “I’m better with you, Cas.”

Cas said nothing, but pulled him in closer, sealing any gaps between them. Dean’s right hand wandered across his back, fingers finding purchase in the dip at his waist, while the other knotted itself lazily through Cas’ thick hair. Castiel’s apartment was freezing, but he could’ve sworn they were giving off enough heat to supply the entire building.

"I love you,” Cas blurted.  

And suddenly, even the outdoor traffic seemed to stop. As did the gentle hum of the refrigerator and the low keen of the furnace.  As did Dean’s breath. The entire world grinded to a halt and Dean’s fingers tightened into Cas’s shoulder blade, as though he was clinging on for dear life. Which he may as well have been doing—the gravity in that room had become unbearably heavy.  And Cas had ruined everything with a simple, overused sentence.

Slowly, Dean peeled himself away, looking at Cas, but not _looking_ at him. His hands had released their grip on his body and found their way to Cas’s fingertips. Now and again he’d brush them hesitantly with his own, but never committed. And Cas, needy as a newborn kitten for his touch, felt a flower of hope bloom in his chest with every skim of their skin.  But he dared not reach forward to wind his fingers with Dean’s.

So he waited, with bated breath, for the response he knew wasn’t coming but prayed by some miracle would be given to him anyway.  With every second Dean remained silent, Cas could feel the strings in his heart being snipped one by one like balloons being untethered from a post. The higher they flew, the less oxygen was available to him.   

But in the process of avoiding one another’s gaze, they managed to lock eyes anyway.  And it was a testament to how well Cas could read him that he then understood everything that was unsaid, but _there._ Dean’s eyes, betrayed by the streetlamp, were wide, vulnerable. Uncertain. Stripped of the facetious shield that he’d adopted. This was the one Cas had fallen for, so readily and profoundly. This was _Dean_.  And there were no words that Cas could use to describe the rush of affection that that sentiment offered.  It seeped through his veins as sweet as honey, an all-consuming desire to hold him close and never let him go. ‘Forever’, indeed.

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean croaked. Cas didn’t miss the break in his voice. But he didn’t understand. His neighbour’s radio was cranked a notch too high, the sweet notes of an old Bob Seger song wafting through the peeling walls and filling the pregnant hole in their conversation.

_“We’ve got tonight. Who needs tomorrow?”_

“Sorry for what?” Cas pressed softly.

“ _We’ve got tonight, babe. Why don’t you stay?”_

Dean had long since dropped his gaze, eyes sweeping the floor as if he’d left the answer on the dusty linoleum and was unable to locate it.   A clump of unease the size of a fist ripened in Cas’ stomach.

“Dean?” He couldn’t keep the edge of hysteria from rising in his voice.

At this, Dean raised his chin to look at Cas. And it was back, Cas realized with a twinge of frustration—that indecipherable mask that would continue to perplex him to the end of creation.

 _Let me in,_ he wanted to beg. _Tell me what you’re thinking._

Then as if in response to his pleas—“Cas.”

“What?  What is it?”

Dean seemed to snap out of whatever spell he was under, stepping back into his Cas’ space, and it was as though the electricity had switched back on between them. Humming and whirring and _corporeal_. It buzzed through the air, igniting something anew in the flecks of gold that peppered Dean’s eyes, which drew closer, and closer, till they finally fluttered shut, his forehead pressed against Cas’, hands alternating between greedily cupping his jaw and looping themselves hopelessly through his wavy hair. Cas sighed in relief, lending himself into Dean’s touch.

“You’re everything, Cas,” Dean hushed, barely audible over the tinkle of the piano’s distant melody. His lips ghosted against the corner of Cas’. “Everything.” Dean kissed a trail down his jaw, and it was all Cas could do not to catch those damn lips with his own till they were both flushed red and incapable of satiating all that pent up tension. 

“And you’d be insane,” Dean growled, having made his way back to the corner of his lips, “If you thought for even one second that I didn’t love you back with everything I have.”

And that was all it took.  With an almost pathetic groan, Cas surged forward and pressed his mouth fully to Dean’s; sloppy, hungry kisses that kept breaking apart only because they could not contain their wide grins.

The song had changed ages ago, and this was one that Cas didn’t recognize, but made sure to stow away for fond recollection.

_"Either way you're by my side until my dying days. And if I'm not there and I'm far away, I said,_

_Don't be afraid.’_

_I said, ‘Don't be afraid. We're going home.’"_

And as they swayed to the stolen music, Cas realized what it was that Dean smelled of:

Home.


End file.
